


Burning Black (The Night Lights Remix)

by slodwick



Category: Smallville
Genre: Community: remix_redux, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-07
Updated: 2003-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slodwick/pseuds/slodwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Based on the original story "Night Lights" by philtre (link unavailable).</p></blockquote>





	Burning Black (The Night Lights Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [philtre](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=philtre).



  
_Love is a fire.  
But whether it is going to warm your hearth  
or burn down your house...  
you can never tell._   


* * *

Lex was tired.

This wasn't where he wanted to be tonight. Or ever, really, but it was time.

He stood in the cool night air, hands deep in the pockets of his long coat, as the limo pulled away behind him. The sidewalk approaching the stoop was more like an island chain, jagged patches of concrete separated by murky puddles. The rain had stopped hours ago, but there was apparently nowhere for it to drain, so water flooded the small front yard of Clark's apartment building.

Four years together, and Clark still insisted on having his own place. He wouldn't accept any help from Lex, either. Clark's salary from the Planet managed to keep him north of Ryder's Mile, but barely. It probably didn't matter, for all the time Clark usually spent in his apartment. And after all, it was Clark. It wasn't like anyone could hurt him. Still, the ramshackle brownstone unnerved Lex. He'd never liked it.

Lex saw movement off to his right. Someone, or several someones, lurked in the shadows of the alley. Clark might be invulnerable, but Lex wasn't, so he though it wise to get inside. He stepped carefully through the muddy water, and climbed the short, steep steps to the front door. A previous guest had kindly propped the door open with an empty beer bottle, and Lex put it back after he passed.

The foyer wasn't much warmer than the air outside. Lex pulled his coat a little tighter around him and started up the stairs to the third floor, trying to ignore the faintly foul odor in the air. At least no one was passed out on the landing tonight. The hall light next to apartment 3-A was burnt out, casting the hallway into gloomy shades of brownish-gray. For the first time since Clark had moved in, Lex let himself in using his spare key.

Lex didn't turn on any lights. He passed through the dark living room, careful to avoid the low, dusty sofa that had a penchant for stubbing his toes, heading for Clark's bedroom. There was really only enough space for Clark's narrow twin bed, a holdover from the Kent farm, a scuffed, mostly-empty garage sale dresser, and the lumpy velour armchair that sat in the corner.

Perhaps the only good thing about this apartment was the view. The city outside Clark's single, naked bedroom window was amazing. So vibrant and full of color, a stark contrast to the dull, murky shades that filled the room. Lex pulled off his coat, draped it over the arm of the chair, and dropped heavily onto the seat to wait for Clark. He figured it couldn't be long.

He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

Lex woke when he heard the front door open. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at his watch, glowing soft blue in the darkness. Over an hour had passed, and he rubbed at the soreness blooming in his neck.

After a few moments, Clark stumbled into the bedroom. His legs seemed to simply give out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor. Lex was thankful for the gloom, sparing him from the garish colors of Clark's uniform. He had come to hate that uniform. Lex said nothing, simply watching Clark's back rise and fall with each breath. Clark knew he was there.

"What do you want?" Clark's voice was ragged, bitterness and misery making the edges rough. It hurt, and Lex couldn't answer right away. He swallowed, letting the silence grow, filling the room between them. When he finally did speak, he was almost proud of how little emotion he revealed.

"I haven't seen in you in more than a week."

"I thought that was what you wanted?" Clark rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

"I... I guess the fact that you're really gone finally kicked in."

Lex flinched as Clark's laughter echoed in the small room. It wasn't the sunny cheerful laughter he remembered, but the harsh, mean sort that seemed so common anymore. "It kicked in -- that you kicked me out?"

"I didn't -- kick you out."

"Fucking bullshit!"

Lex sighed heavily, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes. Over a week, and Clark was still angry, still unwilling to bend. They both knew Lex hadn't kicked him out; Clark had left. His choice. It was just easier for Clark to play the wounded party, the innocent victim, just like he always had.

* * *

 _"Are you asking me to leave, Lex?" Clark stood at the edge of the kitchen, fists clenched at his side. The tears in his eyes belied his apparent anger._

 _"No, Clark, I'm asking you to fucking choose!" Lex slammed his mug on the counter, the dull crack sounding like a whip. He dropped his voice, still trembling with anger. "It may not be fair, but I really don't care. And it may not be the right thing to do, but damn it, I never claimed to be a good person. I did not fall in love with some sort of superhero, Clark."_

 _"The hell you didn't! This has always been a part of who I am, Lex. You didn't seem to mind so much when it was your life I was saving."_

 _"That was different."_

 _"Why? Why was that different? Do you think your life is somehow more important than a stranger's life? That you're worth more?" Clark turned and stared at some spot on the floor, avoiding Lex's eyes._

 _"No, Clark, it's different because in Smallville you were actually happy. We both were."_

 _Clark's eyes snapped away from the floor, staring with renewed anger and indignation. "What are you saying? After everything that we've been through to be together, all the fighting with both our parents, the tension with my friends, the whole thing with the media... after all that, you're not happy with me?"_

 _"No," Lex spoke softly, but he knew Clark would hear. "And, if you were honest with yourself, you'd see that you're not happy, either."_

 _"So your solution is just to give up? Deny who I am, refuse to help the people who need it, just so I can sleep a little better at night? I can't do that, Lex. I won't."_

 _"It doesn't matter how many people you help, Clark. I live here, too, and I see you pacing the floor at night. I roll over most nights, and you're not there. Shit, even when you're here, you're not here." Clark moved as if to leave, but Lex grabbed at his arm, forcing him to turn back and face him. "You think I don't hear you crying in the bathroom? You force yourself to suffer because no matter how many people you save, there are more waiting; you embrace despair, and it's tearing you apart, Clark. It tears me apart, too, and I can't deal with that. That's something I won't do."_

 _"So, now what? Where do we go from here?" Clark's voice was low, trembling now, too, and the tears he'd been fighting were dripping slowly down his cheeks._

 _It was Lex's turn to look down, unwilling to meet Clark's gaze when it held so much emotion. "Sometimes you just have to choose. Who are you? Clark or Superman? Because only one of them lives here." Lex brushed past him, out of the kitchen into the darkness of the hallway._

 _"And when you told me you'd always love me, no matter what? That you'd always be there for me? What about that, Lex?" Clark called after him._

 _There was no answer._

* * *

"Clark... I... Look at you, Clark. I can't live with this."

"I'm sorry that I'm not sixteen with no cares except whether or not I'll catch the bus to school that morning. I'm sorry that my world doesn't revolve around you anymore, that I'm not always available to entertain you."

Clark's tone was vicious and hard, so much like the teenager he no longer was. "You know that's not what this is about. You're killing yourself, Clark." You're killing us both, he didn't say.

"Your saying that a million times isn't going to change the way it is."

"Do you know what it's like to watch someone slowly kill themselves day by day?"

"I save lives!"

"At the expense of yours."

"Go away. I'm too tired for this tonight."

Nothing had changed in the past week, and Lex knew now it never would. The last glimmer of hope he'd been clinging to, extinguished in a moment.

Lex knew if he left him there, if he walked out, Clark would sleep on the floor where he'd landed. His narrow bed wasn't much, but it was better than the floor. Lex finally rose from the chair, standing over Clark in the faint city lights. He couldn't leave him there, not like that.

"I'm not made for saving others, Clark." He bent down, wrapping his arms around Clark's waist, and pulled until he felt Clark moving. The slick fabric of Clark's uniform felt strange under his fingers, and he was already desperate to let go. Once he got him standing, Lex moved Clark quickly to the bed, stumbling over the tangle of his own feet and Clark's.

He half-dropped Clark onto the mattress, and sat down on the edge. Clark stretched out on the bed, long and slinky and vaguely feline. Lex watched as Clark  
maneuvered himself under the sheets, and finally slipped the uniform off, dropping it on the floor. Lex shut his eyes, dropping his head forward. His voice was barely a whisper, "I can't keep doing this, Clark."

It wasn't an apology, and it wasn't an absolution, but something made Clark sigh and then reach for him. "Shut up, Lex."

He allowed himself to be pulled into the warmth of Clark's embrace, tucking his head neatly into the space beneath Clark's chin. It felt good, and he had missed this, the physical closeness and power of Clark. Breathing deep, he allowed himself to revel in the scent of Clark's body, the security of his presence one last time.

Only a few moments had passed when Lex recognized the change in Clark's breathing. He was asleep, and he didn't even stir when Lex sat up. Lex took one final look at Clark's face, lit by the pale light shining in the window. He was still so young, and in sleep, the pain and worry left his face. He looked angelic, looked the part of the hero he tried so hard to be.

Lex stood and crossed the small room. He picked up his coat from the chair, and slipped it on soundlessly. Inside one of the pockets, there was an envelope marked "Clark". Lex took a deep shuddering breath, and placed the envelope on the dresser.

Without looking back to the bed, Lex left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He kept walking through the living room, then down the hall and down the stairs. He moved the beer bottle holding open the front door again, and put back again. Lex dodged the mud puddles, and turned right at the street. His driver was waiting around the corner, and the movers were surely done with the penthouse by that time.

Clark wouldn't find the note until the morning. He wouldn't wake until the sunshine poured hot through his bare window, until the birds on the roof sang shrill songs to pierce his weary dreams. He wouldn't know until then that Lex was gone, both from Metropolis and his life, for good.

The note said it all. It answered the one question for which he still owed Clark an answer.

 _I lied._

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the original story "Night Lights" by philtre (link unavailable).


End file.
